


New York

by Poppedthep



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poppedthep/pseuds/Poppedthep
Summary: They’ve been back together for three and a half months and it’s mostly great. They’re hopelessly in love. Just occasionally Jose is jittery, like he’s tensing for a blow he knows is coming. Brock wants to reassure him. If only he wasn't hopeless at verbalizing his feelings.





	New York

**Author's Note:**

> Another one in my places series, again completely fictional. This was inspired by a line in Chapter 1 of [ How Far I'll Go ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18902818/chapters/44871346). 
> 
> This comes after I Bet in the timeline of my branjieverse but can easily be read separately. Pure fluff, pretty much. For those who asked for a sequel or epilogue to I Bet I may do a proper one at some point - for now there's this little thing!

They’ve been back together for three and a half months and it’s mostly great. They’re hopelessly in love. They find their rhythm together again easily, smoother than before because of how much they both want it to work this time.

Just occasionally Jose is jittery. Unsure, like he’s waiting for Brock to change his mind and run away again.

Especially as the timing starts to get close to when it happened first time around. None of the warning signs of last time are there but still Jose feels increasingly held back, like he’s tensing for a blow he knows is coming.

Brock guiltily wants to reassure him, take the fear away, but what else can he do but tell him he loves him and it’s different now? Jose is sensitive, thoughtful, deep. He loves back just as fiercely so it’s worth the adjustment to be the recipient of that amazing love but Brock is still learning. Brock is hopeless at verbalizing his feelings. Add to that that words that would be enough for someone else aren’t adequate for the terrifying depth Jose demands and he’s lost for what to do.

They’re in a beautiful penthouse hotel room in the West Village when Brock thinks of a solution in the form of an idea he’s been toying with for a while.

Jose is sprawled on the bed answering emails. Brock drapes himself down beside him, unintentionally elegant, and hands him a sharpie.

Jose glances at it, frowns in confusion, gives Brock a questioning mildly annoyed glance, blows him a dismissive kiss, and flicks his eyes back to the email he’s typing.

It’s always so strange and engaging to see his usually manic energy quiet and intently focussed on a serious task. Like spotting a rare animal in the wild.

Brock doesn’t want to disturb it so he rests his head in Jose’s lap waits for him to finish two, three emails, filtering and posting a selfie of last night's drag while he waits.

Jose glances down at him now and then, involuntarily drawn to the planes of his face like a magnet. At one point he distractedly murmurs,

“You gotta start cropping that B612 logo baby, you makin me look bad in front of the kids,” and chuckles when Brock pokes him in the stomach in retaliation, but otherwise ignores him to finish the emails.

When Jose’s done he puts the laptop to one side on the bed and says,

“What’s up toes?” running a hand through Brock’s hair, petting him. “Why you giving me a sharpie?”

Brock hands him the sharpie again and says,

“Draw a heart on my wrist,” holding his left wrist out, sleeve rolled up ready.

“Why?” Jose frowns in confusion and he even frowns cutely.

“I’m gonna get it tattooed,” he says lightly. “I was thinking that cool place we passed on Bleeker.”

It takes Jose a minute to process. His breath catches, Brock sees his nostrils flare from beneath him. His eyebrows shoot up and his hand stills in Brock’s hair. He gives a doubting look, a deep swirl of emotion starting in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Brock giggles.

He rearranges himself sitting upright, crosses his legs, places his wrist in Jose’s lap.

“Draw me your heart,” he wiggles the sharpie at him.

Jose takes the sharpie from him uncertainly. He looks at Brock’s wrist, runs his fingers across his pulse.

“Or draw something else if you like,” Brock shrugs playfully. “As long as you make it something nice. It’ll be on me forever.”

Jose purses his lips and looks at him like he doesn’t quite believe him for a long moment.

Then he uncaps the pen and carefully draws a small heart on the inside of Brock’s left wrist. He’s concentrating so hard his tongue pokes out. It’s adorable.

He pulls back and surveys his work, tracing his fingers over it carefully.

“Perfect, baby,” Brock says smiling, quietly, reluctant to disturb the concentrated moment. Jose looks at him.

“You really gonna get that tattooed?” He asks, doubt and love and cautious hope mixed in his eyes.

“Mmhmm,” Brock meets his eyes and tries to convey reassurance and love. “Been feeling a permanent ink type of way about you.”

Jose’s eyes spill over with affection and he grabs Brock’s face with both hands and kisses him deeply, full of love.

The kiss is somewhat curtailed by the fact that Jose is sniffing hard, blinking away tears.

He pulls back and tries to hide his face with his hand, fingers pressing into his eyes like he could push the tears back in. He already feels less held back, a release of the tension that had been building. Brock pulls his hand away and kisses his salty wet mouth.

Then Jose pulls back and grabs the sharpie.

“Bitch, I'ma draw a spider,” he elbows him, cackling.

They get into a sharpie fight which results in Brock pinning him to the bed, a very willing prisoner, and wasting time with deep kisses that lead to slow lazy afternoon sex.

Jose goes with him to get the tattoo. The smoldering warmth of the look he gives Brock as he watches the heart he put there sealed into Brock’s wrist forever is so intense the whole tattoo place might burst into flames.

Jose decides to get “Toes” in Brock’s handwriting over his heart, just beneath the hairless cat.

“You sure you want it there?” Brock triple checks, holding his hand, his own wrist already bandaged, as Jose sits bare chested, bracing himself for the sting of the needle.

“Why? You change your mind? Four months coming up. Should I get a expiration date as well?” Jose purses his lips and raises his eyebrows, mostly joking

“No,” Brock rolls his eyes. “I’m here for the long haul, get used to it boo,” he teases, just to make Jose’s eyes sparkle with pleasure.

“It’s just so prominent. You’ll see it all the time.”

More so on Jose than on anyone else with the clothes his boyfriend wears. He’s seen his chest covered once in the past two weeks and it’s barely even warm.

The tattoos were his idea but his nickname, front and center over Jose's heart - it's a lot to live up to. 

Jose shrugs, “It’s where you belong,” and then he squeezes Brock’s hand as the needle pierces his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I am really struggling with loss of work due to COVID 19. If you enjoyed this story, or any of my writing (or hate it but feel like doing something nice today!) please consider [sending me a digital cup of coffee](https://poppedthep.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> If even half the people who see this did it, it would make a huge difference! 
> 
> If you can’t or don’t want to, that’s cool. People here are the best. You are totally welcome to continue enjoying my stories no matter what!


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